The Hidden Masterpieces

In the photo, there was an old hanging scroll.

Within the faded colors of the painting were a courtesan and a scholar.

The courtesan was playing a geomungo, while the scholar sat holding a fan.

A pure white light was spilling from the scroll in the photograph.

Si-woo sent a message at once.

After sending it, he waited.

Five minutes, ten minutes, thirty minutes.

No reply came, no matter how much time passed.

He stared at the screen and ate a spoonful of cold rice.

He was getting restless.

Just in case, he clicked on the profile.

An account that had been registered two years ago.

There was no public activity history to look through.

He took a few more spoonfuls of rice.

Then he hit F5 over and over, growing impatient.

Maybe it was because he had seen a glowing artifact, but his heart was pounding.

He couldn’t bring himself to do anything else.

At the forty-minute mark, he refreshed again, and at last an alert appeared at the top of the screen.

There it was!

It felt like waiting for a small fish and landing a monster instead.

He opened the message box in a hurry.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Si-woo’s mouth.

There were so many scams involving antique artifacts that suspicion was only natural.

He was grateful just to have gotten a reply instead of being ignored.

The reply came quickly.

- Yes. That’s me.

- I’m not lying. Want me to prove it?

He turned on the phone camera.

He took a selfie holding a memo with today’s date written on it, with the monitor showing the gallery page on the desk beside him.

He attached the image file to the message and sent it.

- It’s not AI. Then would a video call be okay?

And one minute later.

Si-woo moved immediately to Chat and searched the ID.

The nickname Namhae_LeeJunhyuk appeared.

He added the friend and sent a message on Chat.

Thirty seconds later, a video call request came through.

Si-woo pressed accept.

The face of a young man in a school uniform appeared on the screen.

He was a thin boy with large eyes.

From the background, it looked like he was in a corner of a school hallway.

"Uh... it really is you?"

Jun-hyuk’s eyes went wide.

"Yes. It’s me."

"Wow, amazing!"

He went quiet for a moment, then suddenly bowed his head.

"Ah, I’m sorry. For doubting you... and since there’s an age gap, please speak casually with me."

"Mm. Then I will. It makes sense to be careful these days, with so many scammers around. You actually did the right thing."

Jun-hyuk gave an awkward smile.

"But why did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you contact me in the first place?"

"I want to see the hanging scroll you posted in person. Would it be possible to meet?"

"Ah, yes! But I live in Namhae. Would you be able to come all the way out here? It’s really far from Seoul. Will that be okay?"

"I could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠go right now if I had to. Are you free tomorrow by any chance?"

"Tomorrow? I have to go to school, but after five in the evening should be fine."

"What grade are you in?"

"Senior year."

Third year of high school.

Eighteen years old, just turned.

Since the age of adulthood had been lowered from nineteen to eighteen starting in 2023, he was legally an adult now.

"Then would it be all right if I came after five?"

"Yes, of course!"

"Good. I’ll come in the afternoon. Send me your address."

"Sure! Just a second!"

The video call ended, and a moment later the address came through.

Nam-myeon, Namhae County, Gyeongsangnam-do.

He was about to send a message when another reply came in first.

- I was about to tell you before some useless people started sniffing around. Good call.

Si-woo set his smartphone down.

His heart was still pounding fast.

* * *

The next day, he left Seoul on the KTX.

He arrived at Jinju Station.

While renting a car through the CarK app in front of the station, a thought crossed his mind.

Should I just get a car ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of my own?

Now that he had money, too.

If things like this kept happening, it would be better to drive for shorter trips.

Once he crossed Namhae Bridge, the scenery changed.

Deep blue sea spread out along the roadside.

Small islands floated here and there, and seagulls cut across the sky.

He followed the navigation and drove along the coastal road.

He rolled down the window and enjoyed the sea breeze.

Once he left the tourist district behind, a sparsely populated village came into view.

The typical look of a fishing village, with weathered slate roofs and stone walls blending together.

[Destination arrived.]

He parked and got out.

Salty sea air brushed his face.

An old house stood ahead.

The gray cement walls had peeling paint in several places.

A rusted iron gate creaked as it hung half open.

A young man was pacing in front of the gate.

A thin boy in school pants and an old padded jacket.

When Jun-hyuk saw Si-woo, he hesitated, then came over.

"Um... are you Kim Si-woo hyung?"

Si-woo nodded.

"Yeah. That’s me, Jun-hyuk."

"Wow! You really came! You look exactly like you did on video."

Jun-hyuk smiled brightly.

His cheeks were pink.

He must have been waiting outside in the cold for a while.

"Were you waiting out here long?"

"Ah, no! I only came out a little while ago! Please come in! Though the only thing I can offer you is barley tea. I should’ve gone out and bought coffee."

Jun-hyuk scratched the back of his head.

"Barley tea is plenty for hospitality."

They went into the main room.

There was an old wardrobe and a wooden chest with a hinged lid, and on the wall hung a faded family photograph.

In the photo were an elderly man in a hanbok, a middle-aged man, and a small boy.

When Si-woo looked at the photo, Jun-hyuk followed his gaze.

"That’s my grandfather, my dad, and me. It was taken when I was in middle school."

"What about the rest of your family?"

Jun-hyuk’s expression darkened for a moment.

"My mom died of cancer when I was in elementary school. My dad raised me on his own, but he collapsed last year."

"Is your father very ill?"

"Yes. He had a brain hemorrhage. Right now he can only answer by blinking."

Si-woo had no idea that the bright-faced Jun-hyuk carried such a burden.

"I’m really sorry for asking."

"It’s okay. Really."

Jun-hyuk shook his head and answered with a maturity that didn’t suit his age.

"Still, the doctor said it’s a miracle he even woke up. They say he’s getting a little better bit by bit now. It’ll take years, but if we’re lucky, he might be able to live in a wheelchair. He won’t be able to manage daily life on his own, but they said he should be able to move around little by little."

"Are you living by yourself now?"

"My grandfather passed away a month after my dad collapsed. My relatives take turns helping me now, but... well, I’m okay. I’ve gotten used to being alone."

Eighteen years old.

It was far too heavy a load to carry alone at an age when he had only just become an adult.

"My grandfather liked collecting all sorts of things. He used to go around the five-day markets and regular stalls buying whatever caught his eye. While I was sorting through everything, I found hanging scrolls, ceramics, and all kinds of other stuff... but I couldn’t tell what was real and what was fake."

He went into the corner of the room and carefully brought back a bundle wrapped in cloth.

"Here. But I found another one that looks similar, not the one from the photo. I’ll show you both, just in case."

When he unfolded the cloth, two hanging scrolls appeared.

Si-woo almost stopped breathing.

Not only the scroll from the photo, but the other one as well, was giving off light.

Bright white radiance wrapped around both scrolls.

The room was nearly bright enough to glow.

"May I touch them?"

"Yes! Of course!"

He put on gloves and carefully unfurled the first scroll.

It was the painting from the photo.

A color painting on silk.

A courtesan was playing the geomungo, and beside her sat a scholar holding a fan.

Exactly as he had seen in the photo.

Pine trees and rocks were painted into the background.

The brushwork was exquisitely delicate.

Each fold of the courtesan’s skirt seemed alive, and even the angle of her fingers on the strings of the instrument was rendered with precision.

The scholar’s gaze was not on the courtesan but on the geomungo, yet there was a strange feeling hidden in his eyes.

Then a translucent window rose before his eyes.

At least 3 billion won.

The hand holding the scroll trembled slightly.

Calm down.

This time, he unrolled the second scroll.

Under the moonlight, a man and woman were meeting secretly over a wall.

The hem of the woman’s skirt fluttered slightly in the wind, and the man was leaning over the wall.

This painting was beautiful too.

The wall bathed in soft moonlight, the silhouette of the man leaning over from the other side, the woman’s hand lightly gripping her skirt.

Once again, the appraisal window appeared.

At least 8 billion won combined for the two pieces.

Si-woo let out a slow breath.

The tips of his fingers tingled.

Hyewon, Sin Yun-bok.

A master of late Joseon genre painting.

Along with Kim Hong-do, he was one of the defining figures of Joseon painting.

He was well-known enough to be the sort of person who could anchor a drama or novel.

And yet only a tiny number of Sin Yun-bok’s works had survived.

The thirty works in the Kansong Art Museum’s Hyewon Jeonsincheop accounted for almost everything, and even among those, some were still debated in terms of authenticity.

The fact that so few works by a painter of national-treasure caliber remained was tragic enough on its own.

And now, two previously unknown works were right in front of him.

What’s more, they were in excellent condition.

"Um... Si-woo hyung. Are they something amazing?"

Jun-hyuk asked carefully.

Expectation and anxiety were mixed in his eyes.

Si-woo slowly lifted his head.

How was he supposed to explain this?

Could he really just tell an eighteen-year-old kid a number like 8 billion won outright?

"Jun-hyuk."

"Yes?"

"Do you know where your grandfather bought these scrolls?"

"Hmm... not exactly. I only heard that he bought them while going to five-day markets when he was younger. He apparently bought whatever he liked without even being able to tell real from fake."

Jun-hyuk gave a shy smile.

"He didn’t really know what was good, but if something looked pretty, he’d just buy it."

To think he had bought genuine Sin Yun-bok paintings at a five-day market.

That was only possible because it had happened when the grandfather was young.

These days, information was everywhere, but back then it was different.

The grandfather likely hadn’t known the paintings’ true worth.

But he had known they were beautiful.

So he bought them and kept them safe.

In the end, that fortune had come back to Jun-hyuk.

"Jun-hyuk."

"Yes?"

Si-woo spoke seriously.

"I think these paintings need to be examined in much greater detail by a specialist."

"An appraisal?"

Jun-hyuk’s eyes widened.

"Are they valuable?"

"I can’t say for sure yet. We need expert authentication. But if I’m right..."

He chose his words carefully.

"These paintings could be worth ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠quite a lot."

"Really?"

"Not certain yet. We need expert appraisal first. Until then, don’t tell anyone about these paintings. Don’t post the photos online either."

He deliberately did not mention the figure of 8 billion won.

No matter how accurate the status window seemed, Si-woo was not a professional appraiser.

For a work like this to receive the proper value, it needed authentication from a certified expert and recognition from the industry.

More than that, it was dangerous.

If word got out that a newly adult student was sitting on a treasure worth 8 billion won, who knew what might happen?

People died over a few million won in this world.

At the same time, there was regret too.

It was an amount he could never afford with his own money.

Even with the 100 million won reward, his total assets were only 800 million.

Even with a bank loan, it would be impossible.

And that was before even thinking about taxes.

Of course, it would be possible to buy them by driving the price down, but he didn’t want to do that.

If he offered tens of millions, or even just a few million won, Jun-hyuk would sell immediately.

Given his situation, with his father’s hospital bills pressing down on him, there was no way he would refuse.

But he didn’t want that.

The young man had become a topic of praise for being honest.

Buying an 8-billion-won piece for a few million won was no different from a scam.

* * *

He looked through the items Jun-hyuk’s grandfather had collected in the storage room.

Unfortunately, no light came from any of the other objects.

But that didn’t necessarily mean they were fakes.

Disappointed, he carefully rolled the scrolls back up and wrapped them in cloth again.

"Can you come to Seoul by any chance? I think it’d be better if you saw things in person."

"Seoul?"

Jun-hyuk hesitated.

"That’d be hard. I have school too, and even if I went, I don’t think I’d be in a position to decide anything. I’ll just trust you, Si-woo hyung."

"All right. I’ll work out a schedule and contact you again. Within a week."

Jun-hyuk walked him out to the gate and bowed deeply.

"Thank you so much, Si-woo hyung. For coming all the way here from Seoul and everything..."

"It’s nothing. I hope I can bring you good news. Go inside quickly, it’s cold."

He got into the car and started the engine.

In the rearview mirror, he saw Jun-hyuk standing in front of the gate.

While taking the KTX from Changwon back up to Seoul, Si-woo fell into thought.

Two unpublished works by Hyewon, Sin Yun-bok.

And the pair was worth 8 billion won.

The appraisal window had never been wrong about value.

Every relic he had found so far had matched its appraisal result.

Shin A-young.

Considering the scale of Eterna Gallery in Cheongdam, it might be possible.

Of course Si-woo knew the price could climb even higher than that.

Something like this, she would not want to let slip through her fingers.

Two unpublished works by Hyewon, Sin Yun-bok.

In the art market, pieces like these came up maybe once in several decades, if that.

Then his smartphone chimed with an alert.

It was a text from Shin A-young.

The timing was uncanny.

The read receipt appeared, but no text came from Shin A-young.

Had she been shocked?